Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Monday, June 09, 2008

Hell Is Other Ideas

When Ryan speaks of his days as a full-on Bible-hugging Protestant, he does it with a weird nostalgia usually reserved by people my age talking about free school milk, Fanella the witch, and the plague. It was only two years ago - which I suppose is quite a long time to him, what with that being one-eleventh of his life time so far. This is in comparison to mine; I would tell you exactly what the fraction was, but firstly I'm a lady, and secondly it's ugly to try and watch you try and work it all out on your fingers while I'm talking to you. And frankly, I like your hands where I can see them.

Anyway, we've been talking about Hell. Mostly because he had this mad idea of moving to Croydon, and I had to explain to him in terms he would understand. He told me that he's been taught that Hell is various circles all in tiers that you wouldn't to be in, and I asked him to explain it in terms I would understand, and he said "a Mariah Carey stadium tour" and I nodded sagely and sicked up a little in my mouth.

So I asked him about the Gentlemen Who Are Damned For Liking Scatter Cushions go because, after all, I have a vested interest. He said we may go to the Seventh Circle of Hell, which is one worse than the heretics yet one better than sorcerers. In fact, joining us in the burning desert of our Seventh Circle are the blasphemers, and people who are violent against art (see you there, Tracy Emin). And while our neighbours are destined to lie or sit in the sand, the sodomites are destined to wander around in a group.

I can see a problem with this already.

Basically, they're putting all the gays who indulge in a bit of bum fun together. On what surmounts as a beach.

Some one really didn't think this one through.


Kathleen Bradean said...

Some days, I truly adore you.

The other days are when you haven't written anything.

Kezza said...

I used to fear going to hell. I used to worry that my happy mortal life (featuring bum sex, scatter cushions et al) would lead to an eternity of hard work and torture, and where ever possible I try to avoid manual labour in warmer climes.

However, your description has me ecstatic. An extended big-gay-beach-holiday would be just the thing after a lifetime of human suffering. I'm kind of glad my lifestyle options have pre-booked me that ticket!